Princess Bride: Emma & Killian
by troubledpancakes
Summary: Henry is home sick, so Mary-Margaret decides to pay him a visit with a story of her own. A story of a young girl, and young boy and a journey through time, adversity, and beasts of all natures. Note: this loosely follows plot points from Princess Bride, which I do not own, nor do I own these characters. They belong to ABC.
1. Chapter 1

Henry was sitting up in bed with his Storybook in his lap and he was fervently reading over every page, absorbing all the colors and words as he eagerly moved onto the next story. He often sat alone in his room reading, or he traveled to his Castle.

The Castle was actually just a playground down by the harbor where Henry went after school most days. Sometimes his mother would find him there, his nose buried in the book. She would come and sit with him, and he would tell her about all the stories he had been reading in his book. She smiled and listen intently. _She never let on what she really knew. Henry didn't know the things she knew._

It had been a cold November afternoon, and Henry had already been fighting a cold that some kids at school had been passing around from bottles of glue during arts and crafts day. He had gone out to the Castle and the wind whipped through the swing set, as though ghosts were spending the day swinging their cares away. As Henry went to sit in his normal spot, as a knight on the lookout, he realized he had left his coat in his cubby back at school. By the time he had gotten home, he had practically become an icicle. He was coughing, and his nose was running like a race horse when he found his mom in the kitchen.

When she saw Henry shuffle through the doorway into the kitchen, nose running, cheeks red, and fingers balled up in his pockets, Emma just kind of smiled and shook her head.

"Hey, kid."

"Hey, mom."

"Cold?" Emma smirked, Henry looked at her incredulously. She pulled him into a hug as he buried his face into her sweater. As he pulled back, Emma could see the snot trail he left on her over-sized ivory sweater. She breathed heavily. "How about you head upstairs, put on something warm and climb into bed and I'll be there in 5?" Henry nodded and turned to trudge up the stairs, backpack dragging behind him.

Emma located the cinnamon and the hot chocolate mix from the cupboard and began the process of making the same cinnamon hot chocolate she grew up loving. It brought a smile to her face to know that something that used to bring her such comfort might do to the same for her son now. She finished up, put Henry's hot chocolate in the giant mustache mug that his dad had given her for Christmas last year, and headed up the stairs. _Little did Henry know that Emma had spiked it with cough syrup._

"Hey, kid, I brought you some hot chocolate!"

"With cinnamon?"

"With cinnamon. Of course."

Henry took the mug with both hands and sipped slowly. Digging out the marshmallows with his spoon and swirling the whipped cream down into the steamy chocolate pond so that it would melt in with the cinnamon, a concoction he learned from his mother.

Emma could see Henry start to get sleepy as he drank more of his hot chocolate. His eyes grew heavy and they drooped as he tried to keep talking to Emma.

"Honey, I think Mary-Margaret is going to bring your coat by the house later…" Emma whispered, not sure if Henry was still conscious enough to comprehend. He kind of nodded, then nodded off. Emma took the mug out of his hands before he spilled the remains on his bedspread. She leaned down to kiss his forehead then headed at the door, stopping to look back just before she turned the light switch off.

The next morning, Emma decided what Henry needed was a Saturday in bed, so she decided to call in the reinforcements.

She knocked softly and pushed the door open just in time to see Henry sitting up in bed. He slammed his big story book quickly and coughed as Emma reached the bed.

"Hey, kid. Are you feeling any better?" She asked as she sat on the edge of his bed.

"A little bit." Henry answered quietly, sighing heavily.

"You have some company today, Mary-Margaret is here."

"Can't you tell her I'm sick?"

"That's why she's here!"

"But she'll touch my face and coo at me, I hate that." Henry scrunched up his nose, and pulled his Storybook close to his body, resting his chin on the binding.

"Oh, maybe she won't." She tried to reason with Henry as Mary-Margaret came waltzing into the room.

"Hey! How's my sick Henry!" She rushed the edge of his bed and touched his cheek, then moved her hand to his forehead. "Oh, you don't seem too warm there!" She smiled at him, eyes full of energy, as Henry looked toward his mother with a face that screamed, _are you serious?_

"I saw you left your coat in the classroom yesterday! I'm so sorry you had to walk home in the cold!" Mary-Margaret sighed. "Lucky for you, I don't live far and called your mom, and she suggested I just come over for the afternoon!"

Henry turned to look at Emma. His mother just shrugged him off with a small smile, "I think I'll leave you guys alone. If there is anything you need, I'll be downstairs working on some paperwork." Henry watched his mom leave as she closed the door behind him, and then he coughed again behind his book. Peering back at Mary-Margaret, Henry tried to smile.

Mary-Margaret noticed the old binding on the book, "What you got there Henry?"

"Just a book. It's um, got stories in it. You know… uh, Snow White, Red Riding Hood… that sort." Henry said warily. Mary-Margaret smiled back at him knowingly.

"You like stories, huh? Well, then have I got a present for you." Henry raised an eyebrow as Mary-Margaret pulled out a similarly old-looking book, though it was much smaller. "This is a special book, you see. I've been waiting for the day to be able to read this to you. See, your mother told me this story once when I was really sick, and now it's time you hear it."

"Special, huh? Is there even any action?" Henry asked skeptically.

"Action? Oh, you want action." Mary-Margaret asked devilishly. "We've got sword fighting, ogres, evil queens. There's even a one-handed man. True love, miracles, the whole package."

Henry perked up a little big, it almost sounded familiar. Could this be just like in his own Storybook? "I guess I could try and stay awake."

"Oh, that's awfully nice of you, Henry." Mary-Margaret shook her head a bit, knowing that soon, he wouldn't want her to stop reading. _"Here we go, the Princess Bride. Many years ago, in the Enchanted Forest, lived a young woman named Emma…_"

Emma had grown up riding horses and tracking things down in the woods. She was good at finding things. More than anything in world she loved to be out on her own, riding through the forest dodging the low branches as she whipped in and out of the tree line… well that, and tormenting the farm boy, the son of the blacksmith. His name was Killian, but of course she never called him that.

_Mary-Margaret sighed, "Isn't that a wonderful beginning, Henry."_

Henry, not wanting to seem too interested, said, "Oh yeah. It's good."

Emma always got such joy from bossing Killian around.

"Farm boy, please make sure that my horses get fed tonight. And make sure that they are tied up properly, I don't want them wandering out past the meadow again."

"As you wish." Killian answered, his voice gentle but with an air of amusement. He scrunched his nose as he tried to hide a smile. Emma smiled with tight lips, nodded and turned to retreat back to her own house.

As you wish was all Killian ever said. Ever so gently, with a edge of laughter, and without hostility. As if her wish was the only thing that mattered in the world.

There were days when Emma brought simple tasks to him. Tasks she could have easily done herself, but instead, she waltzed her way down to the farmhouse to have him take care of them.

"Farm boy, fill these water pails out of the well."

"Farm boy, the chickens coop needs to be cleared out by nightfall."

Every time, he replied, "As you wish." Even if with a smirk, or wink. He did it, without fail.

"Farm boy, can you bring a load of firewood in from the barn… please?" She caught herself, wanting to ask him nicely, for once, as she began to realize how demanding she could be.

As every time before, he countered with, "As you wish." Eyebrows raised, head cocked, mouth in the smirking position.

It was in this moment that she realized, when Killian said _as you wish_, what he was saying was, _I love you, silly girl. _She felt her pulse quicken, and her heart raced in her chest.

The day soon arrived when she realized, she too, loved him back. Killian was bringing in firewood to the kitchen while Emma was preparing for dinner. He came in swiftly, gently, with a hop in his step, as he always did when she was concerned. He was turning to leave, and she was flustered. Wanting an excuse, any excuse to speak to him, to get him to stay.

"Uh - erm, Farm boy!" She almost yelled. Killian turned around slowly, his blue eyes locked on hers.

"Would you hand me that bowl?" Emma stammered while looking at the bowl just a foot away from her own hand. Clearly, closer to her than him.

Killian blinked slowly, his head tilted to the right, there was a small smile hidden on his mouth. Peaking out behind his reddish scruff, and Emma's eyes lingered on his mouth for just a moment, before snapping to.

"As you wish." He marveled, as he stepped closer to Emma. His eyes were narrowed, and he was grinning. He stood but a foot away as he reached for the bowl, never breaking eye contact with Emma. He held up the bowl, as if to say _this bowl, this bowl that is within an arm's reach? _Emma couldn't help but smile as he handed her the bowl, stepping closer. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. Emma grew flush as Killian stepped away, comically bowing and turned toward the door.

Emma stood there frozen for a moment. She stood there trying to comprehend her feelings, her face was warm. Everything felt fuzzy. All of the sudden she was running out the door, only to see Killian standing a hundred yards away in the field. Behind him the sun was setting, and in that moment she didn't care, and they were kissing. His hands were in her hair. Hers were behind his neck pulling him in closer…

_"Wait. WAIT. That can't be the whole story! You just started. Are you trying to trick me or something." Henry whined. Mary-Margaret couldn't help but display a bit of amusement at Henry's reaction. "Where's the sword fights? The ogres? You said there would be miracles and a one-handed man!"_

Henry sneezed and sniffled as Mary-Margaret tried to get a word in but Henry wouldn't have that, "Is this just a kissing book? Is this the whole story?"

"Just hold on would you?" Mary-Margaret held her hand up to stop Henry. "Let me read!"

… Killian tasted salty from working on the farm all day. Emma didn't mind. His teeth pulled on her lip just slightly as she pulled away, breathing heavily. He lowered his head to meet hers. Forehead resting on forehead. His hands grasped her face and he placed a kiss on her forehead, ever so slightly. The kiss felt like a whisper, like a secret, something that could never be taken away from them.

This was just the beginning, and from that day forward they spent all of their free moments together. Laughing, smiling, _kissing._Emma would even help with his chores. They talked for hours, getting to know each other.

"I wasn't always a farm boy, you know." Killian said one day.

Emma was completely caught off guard, just a moment before that they had been talking about tying knots and sailing terms that Killian had picked up from the sailors in the market.

"What are you talking about? You've been here as long as I can remember."

Killian looked back at her, "My father died when I was very young. My family was a little messed up, to put it simply." His eyes began to look sad, and Emma put her hands on his. They were now both sitting crossed-legged in the barn, facing each other. "My grandmother was a powerful woman, and she wanted my mother to be just like her."

Killian was struggling with the words, as if he was trying to find a very distant memory. "I was so young. I didn't understand what was happening."

He was looking at their hands now, enclosing his own rough hands around hers. Her sweet hands that were now starting to get small calluses from helping him on the farm. "My grandmother didn't like my father, he was just a stable hand. He was from a small village like this one. My grandmother was a queen. She couldn't have her daughter marrying someone like _him. _I was five. He took me far away from our castle, to live with his brother Jacob. It wasn't until I was older that he told me what had happened."

Emma shifted herself so she was closer to Killian. Their foreheads met and Killian reached down to move the hair from her face. "Hey, there's no reason to be sad! I would never have met you, love."

She looked up at him. "What happened next?"

"From what Jacob told me, my grandmother could not convince my mother to leave my father. She," Killian wavered slightly, then clearing his throat he managed to grit out, "She killed him. She reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. In front of my mother. From what I hear, this was the breaking moment for her. Cora had won. My grandmother had won."

Emma's eyes grew wide, "I'm sorry, your grandmother is the Queen of Hearts?! So that would make you, the Evil Queen's… _son?_"

"She doesn't know where I am. If she was to find me, I'm not sure what would happen. She would take me away from you." He kissed her forehead, that was currently scrunched up into a scowl from thinking too hard.

"Why stay here though, if you knew you were a rightful prince and all that, why stay here and be a farm boy?"

"And go back to a wicked queen and a grandmother who killed my father? I wouldn't have anything to do with that! Don't be daft, silly girl." He smirked at her, but she just shook her head at him. He laughed at her obvious concern toward the situation.

Then he just grabbed Emma's face aggressively, pulling her into his lap. He pulled her mouth onto his, lips warm, breath hot and her eyes shut tight as she brought her hands to his chest, gripping his shirt. His tongue raced over her teeth, and she let out a small sigh. They pulled apart and she buried her head into his chest, and they sat there. Not speaking.

More time passed, and they grew inseparable. Killian knew he wanted to marry Emma, but he had no money. He had no means. He would have to go off to find a way to ask for Emma's hand. He would have to come back for her.

Emma didn't know how to feel. For so long she'd been independent and so sure that she didn't need anyone else. There, in that moment, Killian was what she wanted, what she needed… but he was leaving.

_"I don't believe this." Henry whined._

"Will I see you again?" Emma asked into his shoulder as they embraced. He held her there, as the wind tried to sway them from their spot. His hand was cradling the back of her head, thumb stroking her hair.

"Of course you will."

"What if we don't find each other again, what if something awful happens?"

He pulled back, so her could look at her. His hands on both sides of face, calloused and worn from the years of working on the farm… but there was something so soothing about them. She put her hands on top of his, resting her small fingers the gaps of his, thumbs entangled together. He looked at her sternly, earnestly.

"Listen me, here, now. I will always find you."

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"Our paths will cross. You might even find me first, that's what you do, isn't it? And one day, we will meet again, our paths _will _cross. This is true love. This I am sure of. Do you think this happens every day?"

"Don't forget me."

"Never."

He brought his lips to hers once more, his scruff brushing against her tear-ridden face. It was a slow kiss, but it aggressively stopped time. It was their moment.

And then he was gone. And Killian never reached his destination. His ship was attacked by pirates, pirates that never left captives alive.

Emma didn't lose hope, until the day she received word that Killian had been murdered by the dreaded Captain Hook. Her breathe grew short, and her heart ached. It ached until it was dull, numbing pain that lasted for days upon days. She locked herself in her room, vowing never to love again. The pain of losing the one she loved in that moment far outweighed the love she once felt.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been almost five years since Emma learned about Killian's death.

At the Castle, the entire kingdom had come together to hear the announcement of Prince Neal's bride-to-be. There were children dashing through the crowd with streamers in their hands, giggling and cheering as trumpets began to sound. There was a balcony that overlooked the town square that was decorated in deep scarlet and blue banners that hung down the side of the castle walls. Standing at the edge was Prince Neal, in his rusty-red robes and a crown adorned upon his head.

"At the end of this month, our kingdom will be celebrating its 500th year of existence and on that day I will be marrying a lady. A lady who once stood where you stood. A common woman from the villages among the Enchanted Forest. Perhaps, you will not find her common now, as she once used to be. Would you like to meet her?"

The crowd cheered and there were drums, whistles, trumpets, and laughter resounding in the square. Neal raised his hand to calm the crowd, "Let me introduce, the Princess Emma!"

Emma emerged from the tunnel at the back of the square, walking up the red carpet that had been laid out in her honor. She was wearing a white dress, with flowing sleeves, looking a tad uncomfortable in her own skin. The Prince had every right to choose her, but _she did not love him._

She drifted down the walkway as the crowd lowered themselves to their knees. He could have had anyone he wanted. _She did not love him._

Her heart ached, that same dull, numbing ache she'd felt for so many years now. _She did not love him._

She took a deep breath as she took another step, nodding at the people kneeled before her. _She did not love him._

She stopped. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, breathing out slowly. _She did not love him._

She raised her chin, straightened her shoulders, and put on her mask. _She did not love him._

* * *

Neal tried to reassure her that one day she would grow to love him. She knew she wouldn't. In her heart, she knew there was only one true love.

But that love had passed. That was gone now.

Her only joy now came from her daily rides out into the forest, where she would track animals and explore what was to be _her_forest.

Only a few weeks remained until the wedding, and her daily excursions to the forest became more frequent and longer. The pain and the ache of being in the castle was too much to bear on days like today. Days where the sun was bright, without a cloud in sight. Days that reminded her of the time she had spent with Killian.

She was wearing her dark riding pants, and red cloak flowing in the wind. The cloak bearing Prince Neal's royal crest was a requirement for Emma to wear if she was to venture out beyond the walls of the castle, as per Neal's demands. Beneath the cloak was another leathery scarlet jacket with golden buttons Her white tunic remained underneath, and her riding boots were muddy and scuffed from the daily wear.

She could see him. She stood just feet away from a giant boulder. It was the day that they had first discovered the creek over the second hill. They had ventured farther away from the farm house, to escape the tasks and the chores. She could see Killian standing on the rock…

_"Let's go for a swim!" Killian smiled, as he began to undress himself._

_"Are you crazy?! We don't have any dry clothes!" Emma was shaking her head, but still smiling as Killian was almost down to his undergarments. She watched him as he struggled to pull of his boots without falling over, still standing on the boulder like he was the king of the river._

_"Then don't wear any into the water." He cocked his head, and those pink lips, weathered from the sun, were curved up into that little smirk of his._

_Emma sat there contemplating all the angles of this situation._

_"One…"_

_He jumped off the rock towards Emma. She tried to step back but his hands were behind her waist pulling her closer to him._

_"Two…"_

_His lips were practically brushing against hers they were so close. He leaned in, forehead against forehead. Gently pressing his lips to hers…_

_"Three!"_

_He picked her up by her waist and threw her over his shoulder as he jumped into the icy water. She surfaced, coughing up all the water she inhaled from the sudden and unexpected trip into the river._

_"Killian! My clothes!"_

_"I gave you your chance!" He bit the corner of his lip, smiling creeping up on both sides. He pulled her into a kiss, his lips rough and his scruff even rougher. Their noses bumped together as their lips parted, tongues dancing delicately. Killian pulled away, teasing her by kissing the tip of nose, then her chin, the apple of her cheek, and finally the soft flesh below her ear. He rose and nibbled just slightly on her ear when suddenly his feet were taken from underneath him and Emma was dunking him in the river. Laughing as he came up dripping and exasperated, he picked up her up and threw her a few feet…_

She came to, as the daydream slipped away. Her nose was flared, and her lips quivered just slightly. She could still feel the heat from his breath. She realized just a short ways away, three people stood talking amongst them self as one searched through a pack that was hanging upon a strong-looking steed. A auburn-haired, dark-eyed woman waved to her, "Excuse me! Miss!"

Emma approached the group at a trot upon her own horse, wary of strange company upon her land. She knew she had ventured out farther today than she normally did, far beyond what her daily trek took her, and where her guard would know to look.

"I am so sorry to bother you, my dear, however, we seem to have lost our way. We're entertainers you see, sent to the kingdom for a royal wedding. Are we in close proximity?"

"There is nothing nearby, not for miles in fact." Emma replied, almost hesitantly.

The woman's face grew dark.

"Then no one should be able to hear you scream." She sneered, as the other woman shifted in front of her eyes into a dark, wolf-like creature and circled the horse, causing the horse to rear-up and knock Emma to the ground. The man of the group than rushed to the ground, wrestling as Emma kicked and scratched, trying to get away, until the dark-haired woman pulled a small potion from the satchel on the horse, poured it onto a cloth and held it up to Emma's face. In all the commotion, she breathed in as the fumes from the potion soaked into her senses, she began to feel numb and woozy, her actions becoming less violent until she became limp upon the forest floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Cora was tearing at the crest that was sewn onto the red cloak the princess-to-be had been wearing, so to make the cloak look worn and damaged, and she ripped at a few of the seams. She pulled out a torn piece of fabric from the saddle bag. It was black. Dark as the heart of her daughter, who's huntsman wore cloaks made of the murky fabric. She carefully hooked it onto the stirrups on the horses saddle as though it had been ripped from a huntsmen's cloak.

The two companions sat on the ship deck, drinking whiskey as they packed the rest of their supplies into the ship."What are you ripping over there?"

"James, it's none of your concern," Cora snapped, "however… it happens to be a bit of the cloak from one of Regina's horsemen." His eyes narrowed at her.

"What would you need that for?"

"My daughter has something coming to her."

The dark-haired girl looked questioningly toward Cora, "What do you mean, she has something coming? How is kidnapping this princess going to affect Regina?" Her face was flush from the whiskey she had been drinking.

"It won't. Not until we kill her." She slapped the horse and it took off back into the woods, toward the castle grounds.

"You never said anything about killing anyone. She's an innocent girl. You hired us to kidnap her, that's all." They had headed out to sea now, the boat rocking slowly as the ventured away from the shore.

"I hired you to get back at my daughter, Red! Not to question my motives, or my actions!" Cora swooped in close to Red's face, so that Red could feel the intensity of her eyes pouring into her. James stepped in to pull Cora away from Red, bringing the attention back to himself.

"I agree with Red, I don't think it's right. I know Regina has done wrong, I know better than anyone. But killing this girl, what does that do?"

"You're going to agree with the practically useless, perpetually brainless beast? Why don't you stick to what you're best at, as should she. Follow orders and becoming the beast. You leave the thinking to me" With a flick of her hand she walked back to the horse, leaving James and Red standing there, practically speechless.

She turned back momentarily, "Prince Neal and his handy company of peasants will think that it was Regina's doing, and they will set out to destroy her and her kingdom. I will do the killing, you don't have to worry about that. Just don't get in my way. _And_, if I remember correctly, when I found _you -,_" she glided back toward James, "you were a lost little lamb with nothing and no one, you were numb and broken. I made you who you are. I brought you away from your miserable, lowly life in a pasture. You remember that. And **you**, beast, alone, exiled, dangerous. Where do you think you would be right now? It's not as though people want to be around something as vile and monstrous as you."

Red's shoulders sunk and her lips were in a tight line. James looked at his feet, shifting the bottle of whiskey in his hands.

"Right. That's what I thought," she turned briskly and headed toward the cabin below the deck of ship. "Make sure she's tied up. Wouldn't want the tart getting lose and trying to get away when she wakes up."

"What a witch," James tried to laugh, attempting a smile at Red.

"I-I just don't understand. I don't think it's right, you know." Red stammered after Cora had left.

"It's just madness you know, just think of the adventure. An-and, you know, the money. I only took this job because I just cannot afford my own stable anymore. Being there, alone, with the memories of my family haunting me. My mother… _killed, _by the six-fingered man." He looked away, and the concern grew in Red's eyes. "You know, Red, neither one of us wants to be doing this. But Cora is right, isn't she? Where else would we go? What else would we do? I will find that man, I will kill him. If this journey gets me there, so be it."

Red sighed and looked out over the side of the boat, "Is someone following us?"

James joined her, trying to see beyond the horizon.

"I can't really tell, don't worry about it." He took another swig of whiskey as he leaned against the edge. He looked toward Emma, staring for just a moment. As though there was some reason to stare at her, but then there was just nothing. He looked back out to the water, as it lapped up against the side of the boat.

Unbeknownst to Red and James, Emma had begun to awaken from the potion-induced slumber she had fallen under. Emma just laid there, having heard James speak of the man with the six-fingers. Something inside of her raced at the name, but she couldn't put a finger on it…

-

"Emma? Emma! Where are you?" James looked frantically for his daughter. He knew there wasn't much time. They were coming for him. Snow had warned him that they would, and he had already lost her. He wasn't about to lose his daughter too. She was only five at the time, too young to know what was happening. He searched frantically, as the sound of hooves against frozen ground grew louder.

Emma was playing in the barn, chasing the chicks around when James threw open the barn doors. She looked scared at the expression on his face.

"Emma, we need to go, now." He scooped her up in his arms, as they ran to the stable just 100 yards away. "Emma, my dear Emma." Emma was shaking now, she didn't understand what was happening.

"What's going on, what's happening?"

"There are some people who aren't happy with us, people looking for something your mother was helping to hide. They want us to help. But it's important they don't find it. Do you understand?" Emma nodded, she understood about as much as a five-year-old could understand in those circumstances. "Sweetheart, I've written a letter. I need you to hold on to this, do you understand. You get on my horse and you ride. You ride until you find the next house, it'll be in a clearing beyond the West River."

James took off his cloak and wrapped it around Emma, he pulled off his satchel that was full of supplies and slung it over her neck.

"Papa, don't leave me. Don't make me go. I don't understand."

"We cannot stay together, it's not safe. You have to go! I love you, my sweet princess, I do."

James lifted her onto the horse and led it out toward the back of the farm. He held his daughter tight and kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment. Not knowing if he'd see her again.

"Papa!?"

"Hi-yah!" James hit the horse and sent it running, as he blinked back tears, he heard the horses coming up over the ridge. He ran to the house, only to see the Queen and her crew of Huntsmen adorned in black, perched upon their steeds. James stopped in his tracks as he felt Regina's cold stare locked on his.

"James. Oh, poor, stupid, James." She lowered herself from the mount and glided toward him as she extended her arm casting a spell that lifted James up into the air. He dangled, struggling to free himself of her magic at no avail. "Where is he?"

"Where is my wife, you witch!?" She cackled at his response.

"You leave her to me. Where is my son, peasant?" With a squeeze of her hand, James felt the magical grip tighten, binding his arms to his side. "I know she's helping to hide him. I just don't know why you're trying to keep my son from me? How would you feel if you couldn't find your daughter? Or better yet, what if you didn't even remember you had a daughter at all. Let's let her grow up without a mother, or a father in her life, eh? While you remain like this, a poor, drunken, lonely, peasant boy in a stable." Regina was bearing down on James, holding on tighter to the binding spell that held him above her. She lowered him, so their eyes met. I'll hold on to your lovely bride, too. I'll make sure you both stay just as you are, frozen in time, not know how to get to each other and never getting to watch your child grow up. As you seem to adamant on doing to me!"

James felt the grip on his vocal chords, as he tried to cry out. Choking on his tears. No words came. No sound came. He couldn't even move.

"I will find him, one day. I will. And when I do, then you will pay. That, is a promise, stable boy." She gathered her bearings, collecting her magic and whispering words incoherently. She flung the spell at him.

Finally, she released her grasp and there was a dull thud as he hit the ground. He pulled himself up onto his knees and slouched back putting the weight on his ankles. Struggling to look up at Regina, his eyes were wide and he looked around bewildered.

"Wh-what, how, I-I don't know what's going on," he was breathing heavily.

Regina cocked her head slyly, "It's going to stay that way. If you're lucky, you'll find someone to keep you company until the end of time." She turned away, back to her steed and her horsemen. Leaving James cursed, broken, numb. He knew Snow was gone, he knew he was missing something, but there was nothing left. No memory, no trace, no name, no sign of the life he had created with Snow. Just an empty stable and a quiet house. He sat there, as the wind cut through his thin shirt, and snow had begun to fall as she rode away.

The only solace he found was his mother, who was not young. They stayed on the farm together, tending to the animals, bringing up the crop. Day in and day out, every day was the same for James. Never changing, never aging, with a dull ache that just lingered. As the years passed, James took to the bottle, trying to numb the dull ache and the emptiness he felt inside. He felt useless and without hope. He didn't know where Snow was, or if he'd ever see her again. He knew if he ever crossed paths with the Queen again, she'd probably kill him.

One night, he had stayed at the tavern too long, lingering at the bar. A group of men from another kingdom were passing through town and caused a bit of a stir as they paraded around the tavern, jeering and laughing. He knew he should of walked away, but he just wanted to feel something, anything at all.

Maybe if he hadn't provoked him.

Maybe then he wouldn't have had to defend himself.

Maybe then he wouldn't killed his soldier outside the tavern.

Maybe then, he wouldn't have the scars from the six-fingered man.

Maybe then, his stables wouldn't have been burnt down.

Maybe then, his mother would still be alive.

Maybe then.

Maybe then, he might still have something to feel.

-

Emma saw that Red and James were together, their backs to her. She realized her hands ties had become loose and she got herself to her feet. Without a second thought, she raced to the edge of the boat and jumped into the dark waters with a splash.

Cora heard the splash and burst through the cabin doors.

"Don't just stand there, go in after her!"

James threw his hands up, "I don't swim!"

"I only doggy-paddle." Red smirked, but Cora was not amused.

"Move the boat, quickly!" She demanded, as James jumped to adjust the sails.

Emma had only swam a short distance before she heard it. There were melodic shrieking noises beginning to surround her.

Cora smiled, "Ah, yes. Do you know what that sound is, dear?"

Emma was treading water violently as the sound grew. She looked in every direction.

"That would be the mermaids."


	4. Chapter 4

Emma was treading water violently, trying to get her head above the break as the wind made the waves dance all around her.

"You should really stop thrashing, Emma, dear. Mermaids can detect the movement." Cora said, voice full of self-satisfaction.

Emma could hear the melodic hum swirling around in the waves as her eyes darted in each direction. The only light came from the gas lamps that hung just under the crow's nest, swaying in the bitter-cold wind. A storm was rolling in and the darkness was swallowing her as she began to feel movement around her feet.

"I promise we won't hurt you if you just swim back to the boat." Cora toyed, "You know, I'm not so sure that the mermaids will bestow upon you quite the same favor as I would."

On the horizon, lightning cracked, illuminating the sea. Just a few meters away, a face appeared on the surface. Long, dark hair, and skin slightly flecked with scales that reflected the moonlight. Emma turned and saw another, and another. Panicking, she tried to kick her way back toward the boat, when she felt claws wrapped around her ankle and suddenly she was yanked below the surface.

Emma kicked vigorously with her free leg, trying to loosen the grip the mermaid had on her ankle. Another mermaid appeared just inches from her face and grabbed a hold of her long blonde hair, yanking her head down below her feet and causing her to inhale a large amount of salt water.

Emma knew she was running out of air. Out of time. Her limbs were being pulled in every direction, a mermaid was now holding on to her forearm and they were slowly dragging her below. The lights from the boat began to grow fuzzy, then faint until she felt herself beginning to black out, falling deeper into the cold, murky depths. At the last moment of her consciousness, she felt something tug her upward, and then a searing pain in her arm and suddenly there was a scarlet tide swirling around her as she blacked out.

Emma awoke with the shock of pounding on her chest, coughing up water as she tried to roll over onto her side. It was still dark outside as she laid on the deck, breathing heavily.

-

The horse had come to a slow trot, Emma had been wandering the forest for almost three days. She was small for her age, too. The five-year old was barely conscious, leaning on the horse, trying to gather warmth. Her little blonde curls were damp from the misty clouds that had been following her for the past day and a half. Her skin was pale, almost turning blue from the dropping temperatures.

Jacob was trying to use the last of the daylight to clean out the roost, Killian had been with him for just over two years now. He had begun to pick up on all the little tasks, and he was started to get his working calluses on his hands from the shovel. He had just told Killian the truth about his father, and it hadn't been easy. Killian couldn't understand why someone would do what his grandmother did.

"What about my mom?" Killian had asked. Jacob was almost at a loss for words. How do you tell a seven-year-old that his mother practiced dark magic, just as his grandmother had. How do you tell a seven-year-old that his mother would likely kill Jacob for keeping him safe for the past few years. Jacob had been receiving regular correspondence from the Queens castle from an old friend he had that worked as a blacksmith on the grounds. Things were not good, the kingdom was in a state of unrest. Executions were a part of the Queens daily routine.

He tried to shake these thoughts as Killian came running to the roost, "Jacob!"

He turned to see a panting Killian, "There's a horse in the distance, I can't tell, but it looks like someone might be on it." Jacob dropped the pitch fork he was holding and ran to follow Killian out toward the pasture.

They slowly approached the horse, so as not to spook it. The closer they got, they realized that a small girl was clinging to this horse. She was drenched, and her breathing was shallow.

"Oh my god. Killian run back to the house, get a fire started. Quickly, go!" Killian didn't hesitate, he sprinted back to the farmhouse to prepare for the girl. Jacob stumbled through the doorway a few minutes afterwards.

"Killian, run to the well and fetch some water to heat up!" Killian followed his orders again immediately. Jacob stripped the young girl out of the wet clothing and bundled her up in one of his shirts and the large blanket from the end of his bed. He dragged the mattress from Killian's corner and placed in front of the fire. Gently, he carried the girl and laid her on the mattress, but he could see her beginning to shake.

Sweat was beginning to bead up on her forehead, and the shakes were becoming more violent. Killian tumbled through the doorway, trying not to spill the two pails of water he was balancing in each hand. He poured one into the kettle on the stove, and emptied the other into a pitcher. Jacob kneeled close to the girl, bringing a cup of water to her lips. The girl was responsive, but she coughed up most of the water. Her eyes flickered open, they were frantic and blood-shot.

Her eyes rolled back and she was out again, but breathing. Breathing shallow, but breathing. Jacob got a damp cloth and rested it on her forehead, and tightened the blankets around her.

"Is she going to be okay?" Killian asked tentatively. Killian hovered curiously behind Jacob.

"I don't really know, we can only wait and see."

Every few minutes, the young girl began to shake violently, eventually subsiding. Killian stayed close, holding her hand when it got bad. It was like this for almost a week. He never left her side.

-

Emma tried to sit up, my her head pounded and she slowly lowered herself back down. Red was sitting next to her, drenched as well. She did not look at Emma, she only stared at the splinters poking up from the deck.

"Did you… was that you?" Emma sputtered.

"I did what I had to do to get you out of there. I'm sorry about… that." She nodded toward Emma's arm.

"I'm cut." Emma blinked, realized that blood was gushing from her arm. The pain was no longer numbing as the salt water seeped into the wound. Cora stood there stoically.

Cora came skulking up from below deck.

"Do you expect me to do something?" Red had removed her cloaked a ripped a piece from the bottom to wrap about the open wound to try and stop the bleeding. Emma looked to Cora.

Emma flared her nose, There was blood covering her arms and clothes, mixing in with the salt water that dripped down. She shot a cold look at Cora, who just rolled her eyes. She shook her head just a bit and her lips were pursed as she mustered up a bit of magic. With a small flick of her hand, the wound sealed itself, leaving a long white scar from her wrist to the crevice of her elbow.

-

_"Mary-Margaret." Henry interrupted quietly, his voice shaking just a little bit._

_"Yes, Henry?" Mary-Margaret looked up from the book._

_"This," he mustered out, "this is about my mom isn't it? I mean, that scar…" He sniffled just slightly, sinking back into his pillows._

_Mary-Margaret looked at him knowingly, she sighed heavily, licking her lips. She nodded._

_Henry's eyes were confused, as the gears began to tick and turn, "This isn't just a story is it, Mary-Margaret?"_

_She looked down slightly, then back to Henry, meeting his gaze. She shook her head._

_"You mean all this really happened? But it couldn't have, I mean, I'm here, you're here… we're in Storybrooke. It doesn't make any sense!"_

_"It will, Henry. It will."_

-

Emma sat slouched against the mast. Her elbows were resting on her knees and she was rubbing her temples. The scar on her arm was white, and a slight heat radiated from it, as if to remind her of the events that had transpired.

She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle the salty knots that had been created by the mermaids trying to drag her below.

James stood near the ships quarters, leaning against the door frame below the lamp. He looked at Emma. Something so familiar about her. **The chin, maybe.** Or was it the eyes. He stared intently, just trying to remember something, anything. Every time he thought he got close, a cloud appeared and everything turned fuzzy. The only thing he remembered was a woman coming to his farm and telling him she was his mother. The only thing worse than not being able to remember who you are is looking at someone who clearly knows who you are and loves you, and not know that you're supposed to love them back. James ran his fingers through his short hair, shaking his head.

Emma was looking around and caught James' eye for just one second. His eyes darted away and he quickly tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Emma made a move to stand up again, though her head was still throbbing. She was weak on her feet, but she managed to make it to the side of the ship.

James ended up by her side. He coughed awkwardly. He didn't quite know what to do. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he saw something on the horizon, barely visible by the moonlight.

_"Is someone following us?"_


End file.
